Night Game (GhostWalkers #3)(34)
Author: Christine Feehan

Flame sighed. “I’m sorry I’m no closer to finding out what happened to Joy than anyone else. I still don’t believe she ran away, Burrell. Don’t say anything to the family. but I’ll keep looking into it.”

“I don’ want anything to happen to you, cher. Don’ do anything dangerous.”

Her slight frown turned into a small mischievous grin. “I’m going to meet Raoul’s grandmother this afternoon. That ought to be very safe, don’t you think?”

His eyebrow shot up. “Why are you going to see Nonny?”

“Apparently she asked her grandson to invite me and he was rather adamant that I go. He claims she has a heart condition.”

“I heard that a while back. All the Fontenot boys be very protective of her.” He tilted his head and studied her face. “That’s a big thing, having her ask you to visit, Flame She don’ just ask anyone, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that. I met her a couple of days ago briefly and I guess she wanted to finish our conversation.”

“Nonny Fontenot is a friend of mine.”

“Now you’re being protective. I’m not stealing from her.”

“Don’ go trying to break that boy’s heart, Flame, You’re a nomad, you said so yourself. Raoul don’ know it, but he’s a family man.”

She turned away, unexpectedly hurt although she knew he spoke the truth. “Maybe he’ll be breaking my heart, Burrell.”

“I have a shotgun. If he messes with your heart you just tell me and I’ll pay him a visit.”

In spite of herself, she laughed again at the idea of the captain trying to threaten Raoul Fontenot. “I think I can take care of myself. I’ll see you this evening.” She blew him a kiss and watched him leave before going back to the mirror and her makeup. She didn’t like dark circles under her eyes. Raoul would notice and he’d make some comment. And it would hurt.

Flame scowled at her reflection. “He has no power over you. None. He can’t hurt you even if he says you look like a zombie.” She felt like a zombie lately. Chasing Burrell around the small houseboat had worn her out. “Too many late nights,” she scolded and tidied up the houseboat. She waited to he certain Burrell was gone before she began to take care of her other business.

She’d already removed the contents of the four slim briefcases she’d stolen from Saunders. Most held cash, but one held a couple of discs hidden inside a large manila envelope. Everything had been dumped into a plastic bag the night before, and she’d stuffed the water proof bag inside her duffel bag. The four briefcases had been filled with rocks and dropped deep underwater in the middle of one of the canals. Other than the money she’d given to Burrell, there was nothing to connect her to the break-in once she hid the duffel bag.

Sound penetrated the thin walls of the houseboat. A squish followed by a sucking noise as if something was pulled from the mud. The sudden silence of insects. Birds rising fast from tree branches. She had company and it definitely wasn’t Burrell returning.

Without haste she went through the houseboat, making certain there was no incriminating evidence and nothing to reveal her real identity. Sliding open a window, Flame emitted a sound pitched far too high for the human ear to hear. The response was immediate. The buzz in the marsh grew loud fast as thousands of mosquitoes blackened the early afternoon sky. The moment she heard the sound of palms slapping at flesh, she slid out a window on the opposite side, landing lightly on the deck, duffel bag in hand. Using the furniture as cover, she made her way to the edge and stepped onto the small is and Burrell called his “yard.”

Flame slipped into the trees, staving low to keep from being seen as she sped through the marsh away from the sound of mosquitoes and curses. Using the trail leading around the outside edges of the marsh along the water way, heading back in the direction of the houseboat, Flame stayed close to the foliage in case she needed cover.

Several cars, including the Fontenot Jeep she’d commandeered, were parked near a rotting pier on the small strip of land that connected the bridge to the frontage road. Her airboat was tied up there along with two small fishing boats. She was relieved to see Burrell’s boat gone. Flame shoved the duffel bag in the back of the Jeep beneath a dirty tarp and a box of tools.

She drew a cap over her hair and emitted a second high-pitched sound to drive the mosquitoes away as she made her way back to the edge of the marsh. She needed to know who was after her. Raoul had admitted he’d slipped a homing device somewhere on her airboat and, although he’d sounded as if he’d been teasing her, she believed him. She certainly would have done it.

Flame skirted the edge of the cypress trees until she could hear the men shuffling back and forth, talking in whispers, crunching cans and muttering curses as insects bit and stung. One man scanned the canal continually with high-powered glasses while two others checked the interior of the swamp and the outer edges. None of them were very thorough, which led her to believe they weren’t military. She couldn’t tell exactly what they were doing or why they were there.

She had no choice but to head inland using the cover of brush and trees to get close enough to see them. With each step she sank into the mud nearly to her ankles. Behind her the dark water filled her tracks so it was impossible to see which direction she’d come from. She muted the sounds of her feet going through water and mud so there was no chance of giving away her presence to the intruders.

There were four men. Two shifted position continually, obviously uncomfortable in the humidity and spongelike surface of the marsh. Each time they moved, the mud made a squishing sound around them. The man with the binoculars would glare at them occasionally, annoyed by their constant motion. He objected when the fourth man lit a cigarette and it was put out instantly when he snapped the command to do so.

The men never approached the houseboat, simply observed the comings and goings on the water. They hadn’t staked out her airboat or the Jeep. In fact none of them checked on the vehicles in the parking area, or the boats tied to the pier. She watched them for a long time, unable to as certain what they were doing. After about a half an hour, the group of men entered the swamp, carrying what looked like supplies. They didn’t look like trappers or hunters, but it was possible they were scientists. She knew several studies of the marsh were being conducted. “It’s possible, Flame, even probable, that you are becoming paranoid.”